


The Bitterness of Spring

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Potential Spoilers, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She leaves on a cloudless Saturday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitterness of Spring

She leaves on a cloudless Saturday morning. 

Mornings of this magnitude should be grey, dreary, foreboding. But this is the type of morning that promises light at the end of the tunnel of a long winter. Sun is filtering through the trees, the air is crisp but not cold, and the birds have started to return from their sojourn south. It is a morning of rebirth. 

Mother Nature, like Scully, has betrayed him. 

He watches her silently move boxes from the living room into the trunk of her car. There is plenty he could be doing. Begging, pleading, avoiding, helping speed up the inevitable. But he is rooted to the front porch, hands gripping the railing so hard that his knuckles are turning white. Pieces of the splintered wood are digging into his nails. He does not care. 

He is angry. 

He knows the despair, the sorrow, the numbness will come later. There is a bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen that will not last until sundown. Right now all he can do is watch the tragedy unfolding in front of him. 

Back and forth, pieces of her being loaded up into a vehicle that will take her away from him. 

He hates the sun. He hates the buds starting to bloom on the large oak tree in their front yard. For the first time in twenty years, he hates  _her_. 

The finality hit last night, another argument that started mundane yet veered into the unfixable. 

“Mulder, we both deserve some happiness right now,” She said. ( _You are no longer making me happy,_  He heard.)

“I won’t ask you to stop your work, it’s who are,” She said. ( _I need you to change_ , He heard.)

“I just need a break to clear my head,” She said. ( _I can no longer follow you,_ He heard.)

His strength had always been drawn from her belief in him. The idea that this is no longer a truth is unfathomable. 

She walks through the front door one more time, only her coat in her arms. She reaches out to brush her hand against his arm. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

He does not move. His eyes remain fixated on the sunbeams bouncing off the roof of her car. He will not give her the pleasure of a response to her touch. 

The car door opens, and the engine starts. She glances in the direction of the house and maybe, just maybe, he sees tears in her eyes. 

For the better part of his adult life, all paths have led back to  _them_. 

Dust kicks up in the early morning sun as she pulls out of the driveway. 

He is alone. 


End file.
